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There’s Alexis Ness waiting down by the entrance of the apartment building Kunigami lives in when he gets home, for some fucking reason.
It’s not entirely implausible—this is Munich, and they are playing for the same football team, like it or not—but it still makes Kunigami pause. Still makes Kunigami wonder, for one ridiculous, nonsensical second, if Ness got lost, or something. If a friend of his lives here. If Kunigami has been living next to Michael Kaiser the entire time and never noticed.
Kaiser is in Madrid, though. And Alexis Ness is right here, perking up when he sees Kunigami rooted to the spot, that expressionless, pinched smile of his bleeding onto his face.
“Kunigami-san.”
Sure. What the hell. This is what they’re doing now, he supposes.
Still, Kunigami—shouldering his way past Ness to go unlock the door—says, “You’re not supposed to be here.” And then, “What, you speak Japanese now?”
In half-English, half-German, because he isn’t particularly good at either of those, yet (better at English than German, though, all things considered). Ness laughs a tinny, empty laugh; follows Kunigami into the hallway, too. Whatever. For a moment, it’s really dark, but then Ness moves ahead, footsteps echoing, and the motion sensor—piece of shit that is—finally seems to detect something, lighting everything up.
“You can speak Japanese,” Ness says, not in Japanese, tapping his ear. Ah. Mikage ear buds, huh? Kunigami’s are in his bag. “Do you live in the front or the back? Or the side wing?”
So casual, like they’re friends, or something. So you know where I live, but not where exactly I live? Kunigami thinks but doesn’t say, because he’s probably above whatever this is about. He probably also should be worried about that—what, sneaked into the Bastard office (is there even just one? Are there more? Where the hell would that even be?) to look up Kunigami’s address, or what?—but, well, Ness is about as intimidating as a small dog. He can be quite feral, for the record, but to Kunigami, all that is…
“Why aren’t you bothering Isagi?” Kunigami asks once they’re in front of his actual apartment door. Which is in the third floor of the front building, for the record.
Next to him, Ness’ lips are pressed together tight, like he’s unhappy about the fact they climbed the stairs instead of taking the elevator; and yes, they had practice today, but they aren’t professional athletes for nothing. Sucker.
Kunigami wonders, for a moment, how Ness got here first, actually. That doesn’t make sense, does it? Maybe he took a taxi.
“Ew,” Ness says. And then, “He’s the one who gave me your address, though.”
Dirty fucking traitor. Though this does imply Ness had to talk to Isagi for that, which can’t have gone well for him, given how much Isagi likes fucking the guy, which almost lifts Kunigami’s spirits. A little bit. Maybe.
Not much, though.
When they slip inside, Kunigami doesn’t even attempt to slam the door in Ness’ face, or anything. Which is only because there isn’t really any point in it, and it’d take effort and annoyance he isn’t willing to spend on the likes of Alexis Ness, but hey. Accidentally injuring a teammate would probably be frowned upon even if he was willing, so there’s that. He’s not sure if he could frame it as Ness’ fault if it came to a head.
Oh, well.
Ness takes his shoes off by the door, too, which as Kunigami has learned, isn’t common in all places all over the world as he’s previously assumed (well, assumed, he’s just never thought about it), but it very much is in Germany, too. There’s that, too, at least.
“Sparse, isn’t it?” Ness says, tone bouncy and light enough to somewhat mask the sting he’s clearly attempting to dole out, though Kunigami doesn’t care about this, either. Doesn’t really know what the pretense is for when they’re all by themselves, when it’s just the two of them, and he doesn’t know what the whole act is for in general. It’s really pathetic, is the thing.
Though he supposes he’s in good company with that.
“There’s nothing interesting here,” he tells Ness once he’s ignored him enough, once they’re in Kunigami’s living room, with the blinds drawn shut and the couch and the untouched TV and the yoga mats and weights on the floor. “You should leave.”
Ness doesn’t leave. Instead, he stalks over to the windows like he owns the place and opens Kunigami’s blinds without asking, all the way. Then he rips the windows open, too. Kunigami squints into the light outside: the street, littered with a few trees, cars driving past. Someone is walking their dog. There’s another dog, too, and they bark just a little. How fitting.
“The air is so stuffy!” Ness says. “It’s like you haven’t aired the place out all week!”
Actually, Kunigami hasn’t done that at all since he moved in. He watches, still stood half in the doorway, how Ness loops around the couch and picks up the yoga mats to roll them up and place them in the corner next to the TV.
“I was going to use those.”
“Then take them,” says Ness, sounding rather cheerful. “And once you’re done you can roll them up again and put them back.”
“It’s my apartment.”
“And I’m your guest! This is terribly rude, don’t you know, Kunigami-san?”
Still with the Kunigami-san. Kunigami’s seen Duolingo on the guy’s phone over his shoulder in the locker room one time, and he was sure he was learning Spanish for that fuck-ass Kaiser, but, well. Maybe it was Japanese, who knows. Not that he cares.
And god, Kunigami is tired.
“It’s my apartment,” he repeats. “And you’re not a guest.”
Ness doesn’t argue, because there’s no point to argue here. It’s just true. Doesn’t bring Kunigami any closer to understanding why Ness is here, in the first place, but truth to be told, he simply does not care enough. Sure, whatever, Alexis Ness in his apartment. Sure, whatever, let’s pretend they live in a universe where they chat at practice and during games and Ness passes to him willingly without being boxed into a corner or hounded for it and they’re friendly enough that Ness comes along to hang out in the evening. A universe where Kunigami can admire Ness’ genius with the ball openly, instead of just being immediately soured by the whole rest of the guy. A universe where perhaps their first interaction wasn’t Ness yipping at him about bullshit he doesn’t give a single fuck about.
Kunigami hasn’t been any good at pretending in quite a bit, however. He falls into the couch with a sigh, leaning his head back against the backrest. Stares at the ceiling for a beat, before letting his eyes flutter shut.
“Do you want tea?”
He opens his eyes again. It’s still his ceiling he’s staring at, though. “Who’s the guest, again?”
“I’m no guest, you said so.”
Insufferable bastard. “I also said it’s my apartment.”
“Do you want tea?”
It’s ridiculous. It’s really fucking stupid. It’s pathetic. It’s so, so, so pathetic. Kunigami wants to take a bath—he actually got an apartment with a bathtub, which is not a guarantee in this city, he’s learned—and then go to sleep. Well, stretch a little first, probably. Maybe, just a little bit…
“We’re not doing that,” he says, tilting his head back down to where Ness is standing, still in Bastard München’s tracksuit, smile in place, hands folded behind his back. “Stop it.”
Ness tilts his head, like he’s trying to piss Kunigami off, which, well. Who knows. Probably is. “Doing what?”
Making him explain, too, even if he knows damn well what he’s doing. Kunigami was there during that last match of the NEL, in case this guy forgot. Even if he wasn’t, though, seemingly half of the goddamn world has watched it—if not live, then later on—and it’s not like whatever the fuck Kaiser and Ness had going on wasn’t commented on. It’s still the talk of the town in some circles, so Kunigami has heard, but he doesn’t really have any social media.
“I’m not Kaiser,” he says. “Stop your stupid simpering.”
Ness twitches just a little, blinking hard, like someone slapped him. Only slightly, only on the shoulder, maybe, but still.
“Obviously not,” he says, as if startled out of him. His lips are parted and his nose is wrinkled a little and his eyes are opened, a look in them that Kunigami doesn’t really know how to describe; wouldn’t, perhaps, even if he wasn’t on the verge of falling asleep. His head hurts, he’s realizing faintly. “What—what are you—who do you…”
“Think I am? You followed me home.”
Ness sniffs, lifts his nose into the air. “I was here first,” he says. “If anything, you followed me.”
This guy’s fucking impossible. There’s a reason Kunigami doesn’t talk to him, after all, though he supposes he doesn’t really talk to anyone. It’s not like it’s necessary for existence as Kunigami Rensuke: he gets up in the morning and goes for a run, then eats whatever breakfast, then goes to practice, eats whatever lunch, then does weight training, then eats whatever dinner, then goes home to take a bath and go to sleep. There are match days, where he’s playing, and there are free days, where he’s, well, mostly doing weight training. There’s no space for anything else.
Especially not Alexis Ness cleaning up his fucking apartment.
“Get lost,” Kunigami says.
It’s probably a fluke, anyway; some stupid impulse born of boredom that made Ness come here. Kunigami supposes he understands those, but he wishes they didn’t include him. God, he supposes he’d be bored too if he was Ness. Stupid suck-up puppy. All abandoned and lost.
He’s still there when Kunigami glances at him again, which, well, of course he is, there’d be footsteps and him in the edge of the vision and the noises of a door closing involved, otherwise, but still. For a moment, it almost felt like Kunigami is all alone. For a moment longer—lingering, lingering, lingering—it still manages to feel like that, even as he’s staring at where Ness’ arms are all tight like he’s balling his hands to fists, at where Ness is biting down on his bottom lip so hard it goes all pale, loses all of its lovely pink color.
He’s pretty, Kunigami can admit that. He doesn’t really care, though. Endeavors like that are long behind him, and probably always have been.
Then Ness smiles again, straightens out, clears his throat. He’s good at that, Kunigami thinks; impressed against his will for just a moment. Good at smiling, yes, but good at reeling his anger back, too.
Kunigami wonders what he’d do other than snapping at ankles if he were to snap. For a moment, he’s almost, almost, almost a little interested. Just a little.
“It’s the weekend,” Ness says, brightly. It’s Friday, but whatever. “And I know you’re not eighteen yet—” He is, though, “—but being a Bastard player still gets you into pretty much any club. Won’t you come with us? You’re always so alone, after all!”
Kunigami blinks. Stares for a moment at where Ness is unblinking, any sign of any sort of emotional struggle completely gone. Well, there’s faint indents of his teeth on his bottom lip, Kunigami is pretty sure. Though he’d have to get closer to see, to confirm, and he cannot be assed, so, well.
“You’re full of shit,” he says, finally. Ness’ grin twitches wider.
“Wha—at? No, I’m not.”
“Yeah, you are. There’s no way you enjoy clubbing.”
Ness clutches at his chest, pretty eyes going wide, lips parting. Yeah, there’s definitely bruising. “Oh my! You know me so very well, don’t you?”
Fucking asshole. What’s his fucking problem, anyway? What does he get out of annoying Kunigami? Kunigami grunts a little, brushes a hand into his hair to pull, fingernails scraping over his scalp. “Fuck off,” he grumbles. “You aren’t even dressed for it. And why the fuck would you think I’d come? Do you think I’m stupid?”
Ness tilts his head again, eyes wandering over Kunigami’s body for a moment too long. For one very distinct moment, Kunigami feels weirdly exposed, feels it burn over his skin. Then it’s gone again.
“A little bit,” says Ness, and Musclehead he doesn’t, but as they’ve established, Kunigami isn’t stupid. “I am ‘full of shit’, though, you’re right.” Obviously. Then, “But maybe in the future.”
Kunigami doesn’t ask what could possibly be in the future, because he doesn’t care. Because Ness probably also doesn’t care—why would he—and is in fact just bored. Probably gets too pissed when trying to bother Isagi, so perhaps Kunigami is just the next target. Whatever. Whatever, he’ll get sick of it soon enough.
He eyes Kunigami like that again—Kunigami grits his teeth—then says, “Do you want tea?”
Kunigami heaves a sigh, lets himself fall back into the couch cushions completely and utterly. He’s tired. He’s so tired. Whatever.
“Fine,” he says. “Black. Middle kitchen cabinet.”
Ness is probably going to spit in it, or something. Whatever.
“Alright!” he says instead, brightly, walking past Kunigami. He didn’t ask where the kitchen is, so Kunigami listens to him opening and closing a door before finding his target. Idiot.
He’s almost asleep by the time Ness comes back, startled back into awareness by another body in his apartment, because for some reason, he has managed to forget about it again. Ness is there, however: complete with the smile, and…
Just one mug. Kunigami squints.
“Where’s yours?”
“What do you mean?” Ness says, blurred by the steam just a little. He doesn’t make any moved to come closer. Kunigami wonders if he’s intimidated.
“Your mug. You only have one.”
“This is mine.” And at Kunigami’s stare, at whatever is on Kunigami’s face right now: “I asked if you wanted any, I didn’t say I’d make you one.”
Kunigami stares, stares, stares. He almost bursts out into a short bark of a laugh, then doesn’t, but it’s a very close thing. His temple throbs. Ness smiles back, unflinching.
Whatever, whatever, whatever.